ruthless to knees

Raw

The boardroom emptied slowly, the panel members were the first to leave but Mr.Adil seemed very fixated on his laptop screen while every person was exhaling in relief as they were now going for a tea break Mr.Adil sat there rigid. The Communications team gathered their files in hushed coordination.

Samaira’s fingers trembled ever so slightly as she slid her laptop into its emerald green case, though her face remained an immaculate mask of professionalism. Still, she could feel his gaze — heavy, searing, unrelenting — pressing into her back.

Adi hadn’t moved.

His elbow rested against the arm of the chair, one finger pressed to the laptop’s edge until the nail turned white. His stillness carried a power of its own — the calm before a violent storm.

Rehan lingered by the door, uncertain whether to speak or vanish altogether. The silence in the room was so taut it could snap at a whisper.

Finally, Adi’s voice cut through it.

“Ms. Samaira,” he said evenly. “Stay back for a minute.”

Her team froze mid-step. One of the senior executives glanced between them, sensing tension but too afraid to name it. Samaira’s expression didn’t waver.

“Yes, sir,” she replied, her tone polite, detached.

The last of them left quietly. The door clicked shut.

For a long, loaded moment, neither spoke. The faint smell of jasmine from the table top was in the room, a faint echo against the glass walls that looked out over the mountain peaks of murree — the Margalla Hills etched faintly in the orange wash of sunset.

Then Adi rose, slow and deliberate, buttoning his black sports jacket.

“Eight months,” he said finally, keeping a safe distance between them, his voice low — deceptively calm. “You worked here for eight months, and I had no idea.”

Samaira’s throat tightened, a shiver ran down her spine. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

He gave a short, disbelieving laugh — humorless and sharp. “Worked?” His eyes darkened. He stepped closer, and the air between them shifted — charged, heavy. “You think I work here? I own this damn building, Samaira.”

Now she realised why was he sitting in the largest chair and in the centre of the room which made it so difficult to ignore him. She swallowed hard, keeping her tone even. “It wasn’t intentional. I promise. I applied because I admired the company’s principles — not because of you. I got in through merit.”

She paused, then met his gaze with dignity. “If you want me gone, I’ll resign. I’m not afraid anymore.”

He tilted his head amused, studying her, here he was trying to save her and she was scared of him. “From what?” he asked, voice soft but dangerous. “From me?”

The silence that followed was unbearable for him, he wanted to tell her about what storm was about to come in her life and here she was fighting his mere existence.

Her hands twisted together before she forced them to still. “From everything,” she said finally. “From the chaos that almost ruined my life. My engagement that almost broke. My father’s health that almost collapsed. Everything fell apart after that night.”

Adi’s jaw tightened, his nostrils flaring with restrained anger. “You think I wanted that to happen? That it was intentional?”

She let out a short, bitter laugh. “It doesn’t matter, Mr.Khan. It happened. And now everything settled —” she inhaled sharply, straightening her back, “— but now you’re my employer. So let’s keep it that way.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the edges, but her chin stayed high.

Adi’s eyes softened — not with pity, but something rawer, harder to name. “You think I came back in your life to ruin it? ” he murmured, taking another step forward.

Her eyes flashed in defiance. “I am surviving the chaos our last meetup had till now Mr.khan.”

For the first time, his composure slipped. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark with charcoal. Beneath the power, beneath the ice, he looked like a man who hadn’t slept in months. “Do you even know what it did to me,” he said, now voice low, like he wanted to end this fight, “knowing you were here all along? That you walked past me every day without knowing it?”

Samaira’s voice trembled, she couldn't understand why was he suddenly in her quiet life again. “You were the last person I wanted to see again.”

Something in him broke — not visibly, but in the small, subtle way grief fractures a man’s pride.

He moved before he could stop himself. His hand caught her wrist — not to hurt, but to anchor her, to finally make her stop from killing him with her words. Her pulse fluttered wildly under his touch.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, he wanted to tell her he cared for her and that he wanted to protect her from any harm that could come her way if she could see.

She looked up, eyes glossy, defiant. “I’m somebody else’s, Mr. Khan.”

He froze. Then, slowly, he released her hand — as if it burned him.

What he wanted to say sat on the edge of his tongue: That man doesn’t deserve you. That man is filth. That man’s hands aren’t clean.

He wanted to tell her about Saad — about what he’d seen in that file all the proofs of his misconduct his bad behaviour towards women, what he knew. That he came here to save her.

But the words never came.

The silence roared between them, heavy and suffocating. Beyond the glass, dusk had fallen — the city lights blinking awake, the Margalla Hills now silhouettes against a bruised sky.

Finally, Adi found his voice — distant, cold once more.

“Your project report was exceptional,” he said quietly. “You’ve been promoted — effective immediately.”

Her brows furrowed. “Promoted?”

He nodded once. “You’ll report directly to me from now on. Every deliverable, every client communication, every review — all of it comes through me.”

Her heart dropped. “You can’t—”

“I just did.” His voice hardened, the ruthless CEO reemerging. “You’ll receive the letter in the morning.”

She stared at him, disbelief giving way to quiet dread. What could she possibly say? Adil Khan was not a man one said no to.

So she drew in a shaky breath, forced her trembling lips into a smile, and said quietly:

“Congratulations, sir. You just made my life harder again.”

And then she turned and walked away — her heels echoing against the marble, the sound of defeat in them his reflection flickering against the glass. He wasn’t sure if he’d won anything at all.